Beyond A Veil Of Red and Yellow
by starlie982
Summary: Petunia had only gone to sleep, she was certain. The fact that the grass was a certain shade of green and that there was a swing set ahead of her meant nothing, nothing at all.


_A__nd walk __among__ long dappled grass,_

_A__nd pluck till time and times are done  
__T__he silver apples of the moon,_

_T__he golden apples of the sun__._

_Disclaimer: I wish i was brilliant enough to write the lines above, but alas, that is all Yeats. And i wish i had the sort of mind that could create a world 1/1000 as cool as the one made by JK Rowling, but until then I'll just be borrowing her characters. They are all hers. First fic ever, so be kind. _

_ Rain splattered the window panes and exploded onto the pavement leading up to the little, lonely house. Petunia watched both from her spot by the window, her hands kneading the blanket on her knees and her mind somewhere it hadn't been in ages, because she hadn't let it go there. _

_ It had been summer, Petunia remembered, and there was a swing. And two girls. Or was it christmas, when they had gotten sweaters, yellow and red, and danced around laughing, holding each others hands. One of those little wisps of memories. Really, she thought, whatever was making her think such nonsence, about a girl (She had been a girl, just a girl, when she died) who had been dead for years. She jerked awake. _

_ Easing herself from her chair, and letting the blanket slide to the floor, a puddle of silver in the half light, she walked slowly towards her bedroom. Pictures of Dudley and Martha's wedding day adorned the walls. And their darling children, Davy, already so husky and strong, and dear Agnes, who was on her way to solving cancer, she was sure! There were none of the...other one. Reaching the bed, and lying down, her white hair pooled over her face. It had been blonde once. Not that rouguish, shameless blonde, of that girl_ who lived next store (and going in and out of that house, with a new lad every night. Her mother must be so proud, Petunia smirked.) but a buttery color. It had looked lovely, her long dead mother had said, next to Lily's red.

Lily. A name she hadn't uttered in years. Someone she had gone to lengths to erase from her life. No one knew she had a sister, in this new nursing home. Hadn't someone said that people only die when there is no one to remember them?

She slept.

And woke.

Petunia's eyes blinked twice and then she squinted. This place was just too bright, and a hand, in a graceful, quick, movement shot up to cup over her face.

"Where ever in the world am I?" Musing aloud, she briskly walked forward. There was grass, a brilliant and familiar green.( Like that new tea pot she had gotten, and on half off, too. Or that lovely ring Martha had sent her. Or a pair of eyes, of a girl, long dead.) She walked on. Birds were flying overhead. But, her brow furrowed, it was winter and they had all gone away. Besides, what decent birds make such a horrid and loud howling sound. And, as she shivered, passing the spot where the most of those birds flew, who were those people? A delicate blonde girl running in front of two teenage boys, who seemed to be aguring. She watched in abject horror as the golden haired one leaned over and brushed the other with his lips.

_ So, there are those kinds here_. She snorted and looked down. Shocked, she blinked. _No, this is wrong. I did not have this body when I went to...what did I do exactly, _she wondered, staring down at the young, bright body, the soft, blonde hair falling over her chest and checkered dress. _I went to sleep_, she thought, _i only went to sleep. _ But as her feet moved faster, so did the beating of her heart. The grass, and sky both seemed to stretch out forever, in every direction. _Beautiful maybe to nature lovers_, Petunia thought scathingly, _but I must be getting home. I have better things to do then watch grass grow. Why, I have too..._the trail of though ended, before it had really begun. What did she have to do, really? And why, in lord's name, was she here?

_I'm supposed to be meeting someone...I think...but who?_ Once again she shivered, though she had to admit, in this place, the air was lovely and warm. Then, she saw it.

There was a swing set, familiar and the sight of it brought a wave of nostalgia that hit so hard and fast, she could feel her stomach drop and her legs, young and nimble, tremble beneath her. But that was nothing to what she felt when she heard the voice. It was sweet and gentle, one that she would know in any crowd, at any time. One that she hadn't heard for so many years.

She turned. And stared into a pair of lovely green eyes, the shape so like her own. They stared into her own, sad and unblinking. Lily wanted to say something. Petunia knew that slightly furrowed upper lip, those tightened cheeks, signs that her sister, always so open minded and opinionated, was doing her very best to trap in a thought. But she was silent. Then, about ten million thoughts raced through Petunia's mind. She wanted to scream at Lily, to push her back, to pull her hair for being so pretty and wonderful and saving her son, for being a witch. Yet, a second later, those same thoughts died and she wanted something very different, that she might have wanted for a very long time, but never let herself know it.

"Lily. I'm so sorry."

"I know, Pet. I'm sorry too." Lily bit her lip and looked from Petunia to the swings. Petunia didn't look away, though, she couldn't. Her eyes stayed on Lily's face, even as they started walking to the double swing. Even as the swings, out of sync, went up and down, she turned her head to look at Lily. As Lily spoke and gestured with one hand, the other was wrapped around the swing, Petunia stared and stared. She wasn't sure if anything could ever make her look away.

She knew she didn't want too.


End file.
